


Stained

by RainyMonday



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angelic Grace Kink (Supernatural), Blow Jobs, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), Castiel's Handprint (Supernatural), Exhibitionism, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26372884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyMonday/pseuds/RainyMonday
Summary: “Oh, so you two finally fucked?”, Crowley comments when they see him the next time, eyes full of mischief when Dean flinches and Castiel uncomfortably yet defensively moves in front of Dean.“Who did tell you?”, Dean growls at him, ready to break something – or somebody.Crowley laughs, his eyebrows slowly rising: “Nobody told me so quit glaring all murder and gore at me.” He eyes Dean up and down slowly: “Your angel is dripping grace all over you”Apparently, he’s something like the interactive map to Cas' and his sex life now. And apparently, now is the time to develop an exhibitionism kink.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 136





	Stained

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages ago and then never finished it. But yesterday night I just could not sleep and somehow this is a finished story now.  
> I hope you enjoy reading this silly idea of mine - I certainly had fun writing it!  
> Please ignore the spelling mistakes in here - I wrote the biggest part of this at 2am...

“Oh, so you two finally fucked?”, Crowley comments when they see him the next time, eyes full of mischief when Dean flinches and Castiel uncomfortably yet defensively moves in front of Dean.

There is apparently no way to deny it, not with Cas’ reaction and the smug face Crowley makes, a bit too suggestive for Dean’s liking.

“Who did tell you?”, Dean growls at him, ready to break something – or somebody.

Crowley laughs, his eyebrows slowly rising: “Nobody told me so quit glaring all murder and gore at me.” He then eyes Dean up and down slowly, Dean feeling his gaze tingling on his skin. He doesn’t know why, but suddenly has the urge to cover himself.

“So you didn’t tell him?”, Crowley asks Cas who only flinches, covering Dean almost completely now, “what a shame he has to learn this way” Crowley does not sound sorry at all.

“He didn’t tell me what?”, Dean inquires, confused and still uncomfortable. There is an elephant in this room he can’t quite grasp and it makes him furious. “Cas, what is he talking about?”

“Oh”, Crowley starts, way too much amusement in his voice. His eyes once again scan over Dean’s body, this time – if possible – even slower than before. Cas tries to interrupt him when he talks again, but Crowley just shushes him and winks at both of them: “Very telling I have to say. Got angel written all over your body Dean”

“Toodles”, he adds when Cas attempts to stab him, vanishing into thin air.

Dean stands there dumbfounded. What the hell was that supposed to mean?  
Cas next to him awkwardly fumbles with his hands and just from that gesture, it’s clear that Crowley was not shitting him. “Cas?”, he inquires, an edge to his voice, “what was that about?”

Cas looks at him, truly looks at him for the first time this day and Dean could swear he sees a blush on the angel’s face. What the fuck?

“It is complicated” “That is not helping Cas”, he cannot stop himself from sounding annoyed. It had taken him almost a week to even tell Sam and now Crowley just marched in and knew about their sex life of all things.

Cas gaze was lowering again, most certainly avoiding Dean’s body at all. He looked himself up an down to see nothing. Nothing at all, not even a rumpled shirt. He had changed clothes for exactly the purpose of avoiding, well, all of this from people like Crowley.  
And yet, the fucking King of Hell had been able to see and Cas avoided looking at him, as if- Oh fuck no.

“Cas”, this time his voice was serious and practically forced Cas to at least look him in the eye, “what exactly do I look like? From your perspective”

Cas tried to avoid his gaze, awkwardly fumbling his hands in the pockets of his trench coat.  
“Cas”, he repeats, his voice more urgent now.

“The beacon of light”, a voice submits and he turns around to find Meg leaning against the doorway, smiling smugly, “overdone Christmas decorations, a Broadway sign, …. You get the point I guess” She shrugs her shoulders, obviously really enjoying watching Dean struggle.

“You should’ve told him Cas”, she adds, smile spreading into a grin, “before Crowley commented on it of course”

“It was an issue beyond human comprehension”, Cas finally replies, much more defensive than Dean sees him normally.

Probably it’s Meg, probably it’s just the whole topic. The beacon of light. It sounds ridiculous. “Beyond human comprehension?”, he scuffs, “Cas, apparently, I have a big sign on myself saying we fucked”

“I can assure you there is no sign whatsoe-“

“Metaphors Cas”, Dean interrupts him.

“Oh”

“But it doesn’t matter because people-”

“- only demons and other angels”, Cas supplies readily.

“People can apparently easily guess where my …. glowing…. comes from”, he makes a pause, “where does it come from Cas damn it?”

“He’s dripping grace all over you”, Meg supplies again, very much not helpful. She looks at both their glares more amused than scared.  
“I guess I am leaving you to your lovers quarrel then”, Meg winks at them, at Cas in particular, and disappears, leaving Dean with the sudden urge to stab her the next time they see her. Maybe not with the demon killing knife, but with something long and wicked. Cas looks like he’s about to consider the demon killing knife.

“I did not know how to tell you”, Cas finally admits, “you aren’t even able to see what I am talking about. I did not want to put you off”

“I-“, Dean starts and then stops, trying to avoid his temper getting the better over him, “I could never be put off. All I want is honesty. I want to know I am glowing before somebody like Crowley can shove it into my face”

Cas helplessly shrugs his shoulders but did offer an excuse. It was enough for Dean because they had spent so much time of their lives lying to each other and subsequently losing each other, he did not want to do it again.

“So, how does it look like?” Dean tries, not quite knowing how to phrase his question.

“What?”

“The grace stains?”

“They aren’t really-“, Cas sights and then studies Dean with an intense gaze that gets him a little too hot, “Probably like being smeared in color”

“So I just look like I took a nice swim in a pool of grace?”

“Not exactly”

“Uh?”  
Cas continues to stare at him but something about his stare changes, his eyes growing darker. “It’s more of a, uhm.”

“Spit it out”

“Grace does not generally stick to humans. If we heal them, sometimes some of our grace remains on them for a couple of days, but that’s it. But we … we share another connection after I rescued you from hell so at least parts are… permanent”  
He closes the gap between them, and this time Dean can decipher the expression in Castiel’s eyes. It’s possessiveness. It’s new and unusual and it doesn’t bother Dean the least. On the contrary. He leans into the touch when Cas presses his hand on his upper arm, just were the handprint scar used to be. It shouldn’t feel this good yet the touch his warm and pleasant, soft and burning all at the same time. He bites his lips from stopping noises to leave his mouth.  
“This is where most of my grace is stuck”, Cas explains, “this is the reason for our connection”

“I thought the scar was gone”

“The scar yes, but not the mark I left on your soul”

“You left a mark on my soul?”

“When saving you, yes”

“So the first thing demons and angels see in the dark about me is your handprint?”  
That explained many weird comments he had gotten over the years.

“I assume so, yes”

“So how could Crowley tell we had sex?”

“The other trails”, Cas’ fingers wander up his arm, then gently run over his exposed neck and down his body, “are left by, well, being really close to you, intimate.”

“He can see your touches”

“Pretty much”

“He’d know if you, I don’t know, spent an incredibly amount of time touching my ass?”

Cas looked like he wasn’t sure what to think of that: “Yes, he could”

It takes Dean a couple of minutes to decide what to make of this.  
Apparently, he’s something like the interactive map to their sex life now. The thought of other people just knowing, knowing all the spots he likes Cas to touch, all the things they did, is uncomfortable at first. He figures there’s no way to shut it off completely and there certainly is now way he just stops having sex with Castiel. So if he’s damned to show off, he can do so at least properly.  
What a time to develop an exhibitionism kink.

“So”, he starts, catching Cas’ gaze, “what about giving them one hell of a show?”  
With that, he directs both of Cas’ hands right to his ass while catching the other’s lips. He had every intention of glowing like the fucking sun when they were done.

Cas eyes him warily at first, unsure, eyebrows frowned in confusion. His grip on Dean’s ass does tighten though. Dean feels it and smiles, pressing himself against Cas even more firmly. He feels the shudder running through the angel all over his own body and cannot stop himself from practically purring. Cas still looks unsure, his gaze studying Dean’s body over and over again.

“Don’t you like showing off?”, Dean asks, lips so close to his ear they practically touch, making goosebumps rise all over willing skin.

“I do like to leave marks”, Cas answers, voice deep and almost guttural, resonating through Dean’s body. Now it’s his time to shiver in Cas’ grip.

“What does stop you?”, this time he does purr while rolling his hips. He full well knows what he does to Cas and he knows his grin is a tease, the way his body moves is.

Cas has him against the wall within seconds, the pain of colliding against thick concrete taking the air out of his lungs. It does not stop his arousal. Instead, he enjoys the feeling of being crowded, of being pressed against a cold surface on one side and against Cas’ surprisingly warm body on the other. It’s a glorious feeling because he can let go, his whole world slipping from him while Cas claims his mouth again, lips and teeth clashing, tongue exploring his mouth without waiting for his invitation or approval. It’s a different kind of heaven, one Dean is willing to remain in for as long as possible, as long as Cas is there all over him and he can just let go.

The way Cas’ hands travel up from his ass to his hips, nevertheless firm and possessive makes him go lump beneath the angel, his breath hitching. He kisses back in earnest now, allows Cas mouth to move on to his neck, even making more room for him as he travels down. He knows Cas leaves hickies and bruises, has seen them often enough in the mirror. But now he knows Cas leaves different marks too, more obvious one, a part of himself in some way. The mere thought sends heat through his body, forcing himself to expose even more of his neck and throat to Cas’ greedy lips. He’s moaning already because he is very aware of how much Cas likes to hear him, see him in pleasure and he is willing to give, give, give.

His own hands go from Cas’ shoulders to Cas’ hair, burying themselves in it. Cas has perfect hair for that, for being pulled, for holding on. He feels Cas sulk in air on his skin and once again is reminded of how much Cas likes his fingers in his hair and he pulls, just a little bit more forceful than necessary. Cas growls, a sound resonating deep down in his throat and bites down hard on his skin. He grits his teeth together to stop himself from shouting in surprise. He does pant audibly thought and whatever blood had been left in his brain goes straight down to his crotch.

He doesn’t know if he will be able to stand all of his, to have Cas lick and suck and mark every part of his body possible but he is willing to die trying, to be reduce to a moaning, pliant mess. The thought alone, the mere idea how he will look to others, to Cas most importantly, his enough to drive him crazy, his cock giving a curious twitch at it. He uses the hand that currently isn’t buried in Cas’ hair to desperately claw at Cas’ coat, pushing it down the angel’s shoulders. Cas complies with the motion, shaking the coat off, parting from Dean’s body only for a second.  
It’s a second too long for Dean, the heat gone too suddenly. He pulls Cas back in against him, hips bucking up desperately, searching for much needed friction yet Cas’ smirk tells him he will not yet be granted release. Not before he isn’t fully stained.

“Please”, he moans without really meaning it, this being the sweetest kind of torture, one he is willing to go through despite feeling his cock hard and wanting.  
Cas smiles, moving against Dean teasingly before his lips once again bury in the curve between Dean’s neck and shoulders, placing more bitemarks there.

Dean’s shirt is next on Cas’ mission and it does not survive an angel with a mission. Dean as neither time nor brain capacity left to feel sorry for the shirt when Cas’ lips trail down his torso, incredibly soft, gentle, making him shiver and shudder beneath the other, body pressing up helplessly, head against the wall, eyes closed in ecstasy.  
He just feels and feels and feels, Cas’ touches like tiny explosions on his skin. When he thinks he cannot take it anymore, the touch being too much, the friction between them, he lets his hands wander again, away from being safely buried in Cas’ hair and under his shirt, against his flesh. Dean can play dirty too but he knows this is not about teasing Cas, about making him moan and shiver like their first time had been when neither of them had known the extent to which Cas could feel human (very much). So Dean settled for grinding their hips together while letting his hands trail over Cas’ stomach (tones) and back, his lips nicking at Cas’ neck, leaving his own marks.

When Cas’ hands finally touch the hem of his jeans, the belt, he can’t stop the sight of relief escaping his body.  
“Fucking finally", he curses, his breath hitched and voice hoarse.  
Cas chuckles, palm against the bulge in Dean’s pants as if there wasn’t a bulge in Cas’ pants too. Damn angel self-control.  
Dean groaned, not caring, moving against Cas’ palms so focused he only realizes his pants are gone because the friction vanishes too. He expected hands settling on his ass again, fingers breaching him but was surprised when Cas merely pulls his underwear down too without actually going for it.

“Cas, what the-?”, he stops, voice ripped out of him when Cas touches his cock lazily stroking it.

“I am not done yet", Cas informs him, his lips inviting Dean’s to a sloppy kiss before going down.  
That’s when Dean realizes.

“Oh", he makes, and the sound vanishes in the moan ripped from him when Cas’ lips touch his cock, just kissing the tip, still being a gooddamn tease. Especially cause these lips did not stay where he needed them the most.  
Just as Cas’ hands roam up and down his tights, Cas’ lips start moving too, kissing a line down his left tight, making Dean quiver, then moving on to his right tight. He buries his hands once again in Cas’ hair, for support just as much as to guide Cas’ lips to where he needs them to be.

Cas looks up at him through dark lashes and Dean could feel him moan when he fastens the grip in his hair. This time, they look each other in the eye when Cas swallows his cock down and that alone was almost enough to make Dean come because fuck, he could watch Cas like this forever.

“Fuck, Cas, I am close “, he breaths out, surprised he managed that many syllables and all Cas does is hum intently around him, the friction increasing, more suction and a wicked tongue circling the downside of his length in lazy circles. There is nothing he can do to stop himself getting closer and closer to the edge, his eyelids fluttering, coherent thoughts long gone.

When he does come, he has to bite his arm to hide the scream almost hard enough to draw blood. He painfully remembers Sam in the room next door but seeing Cas swallow and lick his lips is almost enough to make him grow hard again. His body has slumped against the wall – exhausted and blissful. His chest feels like exploding, heartbeat echoing in his ears. He pulls Cas up by the sloppy tie still around his neck and catches his lips in a deep kiss tasting himself in Cas’ mouth, on his tongue. Cas groans into the kiss, hands clasping the firm of Dean’s ass and suddenly Dean wasn’t so sure anymore he would not grow hard again. He had not forgotten about Cas own hard on and angel patience be damned, Dean feels the need in Cas’ kiss, in the way his hands restlessly wander up and down his body.  
He deepens their kiss, pressing his ass against Cas’ searching hands, giving wordless permission, an invitation because he feels like he still needs this just as Cas needs it

The angel shudders into his gesture yet lost no time. There were some perks being in a relationship with an angel apart from the stamina part. There was no stretching problem, not with hands that basically – and apparently also figurately - dripped from grace despite Dean not being able to see it. He knows it because he feels it, has felt it the first time too when he had still been nervous about all of this. He bets Crowley will see too. And Meg. He does not care.  
Instead, he presses into the first finger entering alongside the prickling, warm sensation of Cas’ grace easing the way in.

“More" he hisses, and Cas complies, scissoring him open and it is so damn good he feels himself growing hard again. This time is different, more sensitive and feeling Cas against him is so good, so much more than good actually.

“So eager to show them, aren’t you?”, Cas mouths against his ear, shoving a third finger in, almost ready.

There is no answer Dean could give anymore except for incoherent mumbling and fumbling against Cas’ pants, palming the bulge in his trousers until he had gulped in enough air to tease. Of course he teases. Some part of him has decided not to leave this place being able to walk.

“Then fuck me already “, he is not sure if Cas groans or chuckles at it, but faster than should humanely be possible, Cas is naked and against him and then in him.  
This time he does forget to muffle his scream and is grateful at least Cas has some sense of decency (except for the way Dean at this point had to be painted in grace in the most scandalous ways). The rhythm is hard and fast, somewhere right before painful, the best part of desperate and passionate, intense. Dean moves against every thrust, his body just naturally reacting, his muscles shaking from both enthusiasm and exhaustion.

Cas is relentless, their lips torn between open mouthed sloppy kisses and trailing each other’s bodies until even Cas’ steady rhythm grows more erratic and Dean shudders underneath him when Cas’ hand grips his cock, going with the rhythm of his thrusts until both of them come and Cas’ eyes lit up just when the electricity momentarily fails them.

They slump against each other and the wall while the lights slowly flicker on again, spend and content

“How do I look?”, Dean manages to ask, a wink on his face.

Cas looks him up and down and groans hoarsely: “You look like you ask for a third round”  
Dean does not complain.

“I have seen a lot so far but this?”, Crowley complains the next time he sees them, “honestly? These are details not even I did intent to know! That’s just gross!”

Sam glances at them with raised eyebrows, shooting Dean one of his brotherly-annoyed glares that essential asked “seriously?”.

The next time Meg sees them, she only whistles and grins before smacking Dean’s ass. He’s already past the point where something like that could be embarrassing.

When Gabriel walks in probably to cause some completely unnecessary chaos or to flirt with Sam, he just stops right into his tracks when he sees Dean. He gapes before his face splits into a wide smirk and he whistles at impressed.  
“Nice job little brother”, he tells Cas, winking suggestively before vanishing to search their kitchen for candies.

Sam looks even more confused: “What the heck is going on?”

Despite remaining silent, their faces seem to be enough to scare Sam’s need for an answer away: “I don’t really want to know, do I?”, he asks.


End file.
